


mr nice

by wildlings (candybank)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, sometimes u ride the bicycle and sometimes the bicycle rides u, zhengting as the bicycle btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/wildlings
Summary: zhu zhengting is a conniving switch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 90000% based off of this WILD anon prompt from cc: "Zhu Zhengting is a conniving SWITCH. He plays with his victims like that, making them think they blow his mind whenever they top but truth is he controls the ride every single time. They think it's cute & funny when he says he wants to try being top. But they find out they made a huge mistake when he blasts them into oblivion when he ruts. At least, he give them a taste of Heaven. He isn't Mr. Nice for nothing." thanks for the prompt satan

zhu zhengting is a conniving switch.

xukun holds his hips in place with one hand and tries to keep the camera steady with the other, and zhengting notices how this makes him lose his focus. clicking his tongue, he turns his head to look behind him, which makes xukun so impossibly harder that he feels like his dick is about to explode. "put that camera away and fuck me properly, xukun," he says, all whiny and breathless and impatient and begging. xukun can't explain it, doesn't know how it can happen, how a voice can give an ego a blowjob but maybe zhengting is just _that_ good in bed. almost instantly, xukun throws his phone to the side and squeezes zhengting's hips between his fingers--jackhammering all the way to the end, zhengting screaming his name.

ziyi's sweat drips onto his lips, and he watches as zhengting licks it off. zhengting says he likes it when ziyi _glistens_ , so ziyi doesn't take a pause to shower after going to the gym. all leftover adrenaline and rushing endorphins when he gets to zhengting's door. not a pause for anything, not even a hello. no time given to even locking the door or taking off socks. they're rolling around in zhengting's bed in the blink of an eye, and ziyi is pushing into him and trying to get his name out of zhengting's mouth as soon as he can (a.k.a: doing everything zhengting wants.) "harder." "faster." "right there, right there." zhengting says jump. ziyi says how high. zhengting says pull out. ziyi says right now? so, he does. and zhengting pushes him onto his back, getting on top of him and doing everything himself. it's not that ziyi is unhelpful. it's just that zhengting says he has a meeting at five, and it's almost four-thirty. and maybe ziyi wants something more than afternoon quickies, but more than anything, he wants zhengting to say his name. so he lets zhengting ride him like a Universal Studios™ Hollywood Rip Ride Rockit Rollercoaster™. stars behind his eyes, coming all over zhengting's thighs. all of it worth it, because zhengting kisses him goodbye.

yanjun shoves him against mops and brooms because this is his idea of romance. the janitor's closet between intro to philosophy and gender studies. all jeans barely off, all clothes fully on. all zhengting smiling because he appreciates how little yanjun appreciates him, all yanjun doing everything to get the smile off of zhengting's mouth. and it's always quick and aggressive. a cracked plastic bucket, detergent falling off of the shelves and spilling onto the floor. the most intimate they've ever been was yanjun sucking on a cut zhengting got on his finger from accidentally grabbing a pair of scissors in an attempt to steady himself against the shelves while yanjun pushed too, too deep. but they've consistently made sure to fuck in exclusively hazard-free zones since then, so there's nothing stopping yanjun from going too, too, too deep again. and it's painful but it's not painful enough, so he pulls their bodies closer together and whispers like an advocate into the devil's ear, "harder," he moans breathily, "harder, junnie, please." and yanjun, blacking out for all of a second, he does exactly as zhengting says. putting a helpful hand over his mouth when he starts to scream a little too loud. kissing him too long, late for their next class again.

yanchen loves him. and he loves yanchen. so, he lets him leave the lights on almost all of the time, because yanchen has told him time and time and time again that he loves him, and he loves every inch of him, and he wants to see all of him because he loves him and he loves him and he loves him. and it's not that zhengting doesn't feel the exact same way, it's just that xukun had been upset, and he had left vengeful, blooming red marks all over zhengting's thighs. "show that to him the next time you see him," he had spat bitingly, holding zhengting's hands over his head as he pushed into him and fucked him ruthlessly. and zhengting had loved every second of it, but he pulls the covers over their bodies now. distracting yanchen with a slow, deep kiss so his eyes won't wander. "what's going on?" yanchen asks suddenly, stopping right in the middle of a beat. "... really?" zhengting replies, alluding to the dick staying stationary inside him. yanchen cups his cheek and looks into his eyes, and zhengting forgets what he was about to say. "i just..." he tries, almost faltering, almost forgetting himself to closed eyes and head rolled back when yanchen starts kissing downt he column of his neck. only instinct saves him, and reminds him to bring yanchen's eyes back up to him. and zhengting tries to look at him with as much _love_ as he can muster, or whatever the little glint in his eyes must be. "can you just... kiss me tonight?" he asks softly, and tensely waits through a long pause before yanchen relents and climbs back up his body to do as he asks. "i missed you," zhengting whispers onto his lips, kissing him sweetly again and again. "

ruibin is sweet. he's gentle, and kind, and loving. the life-sized teddy bear he had gotten for zhengting sits in the far corner of the room as he makes love to him. and 'making love,' zhengting thinks, is exactly the right term for whatever they're doing. not because he's in love with ruibin or because there's something so very magical about this, but because ruibin feels like a nail being hammered and pulled out and hammered back into the wall that is zhengting's body, and it makes zhengting feel like they're making something. like sex is a crafts project, and zhengting has never been very good at art. like they're d.i.y-ing something, and zhengting has never been so big on doing anything himself. ruibin is sweet, and he's so, so, so handsome, but zhengting feels so bored out of his mind that he starts thinking about what he's getting at starbucks after. thoughts interrupted by ruibin moaning loudly, his tell-tale sign. zhengting's so happy that it's about to end that he snaps back into gear, and sucks ruibin off to climax instead. 

"can not." "can too." can not." "can too!" can not!" can too!!!" xukun has to press a finger against his ear to check if his eardrums have been shattered. zhengting chuckles, still straddling xukun's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck again and kissing him again. "can too," zhengting whispers between a kiss, and xukun snaps and pulls away, " _prove it._ " and zhengting smiles like he had been counting on it. by the way things go just two days later, xukun is almost certain that he had been tricked. he'll say he doesn't know how it happened. how zhengting had actually gotten him to perform a strip tease, and actually play with himself in bed, and actually  ~~beg~~   _ask politely_ for zhengting to get in bed, but he had done it. zhengting drags nails down his back as he pushes back inside him, and xukun can't remember the last time he was fucked so good. zhengting's hips move at such a perfect rhythm that xukun runs out of air and blacks out. when he comes back to himself, he can still feel the swollen red marks zhengting had left all over him. his back and his chest and his neck and his thighs. and zhengting is still going at him, squeezing and slapping and scratching and holding his body as if he has him memorized. the sensations all rush back, and he's so hard that he feels like he's about to explode. a running theme. gingerly, xukun reaches down to relieve himself, only to be stopped by strict fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling his hand back behind his waist. losing control over his body, xukun whinces. " _zhengting_..." he breathes, so lewdly that it sounds like a moan. "hm?" "zhengting, please..." " _please what_?" "please... ah-- _fuck_..." zhengting strokes his hair. "good boy."

"let me top, 'yiyi," zhengting pouts over hotel blankets and blue pyjamas, smooching ziyi's cheek as if to convince him. ziyi laughs, over zhengting's words and zhengting's lips on his ticklish neck, but then zhengting stops kissing him and looks at him for a long time, and he stops laughing. "oh, you're serious." and he can't imagine how zhengting can be serious when he answers the question with a bigger pout and a cute little nod. not that he has to imagine a day later, with zhengting's hands tied above his head, and ziyi riding him like it's the only thing he knows how to do. not that it's something that he knows how to do, not that ziyi has ever actually done this before. but zhengting had told him that he would teach him something, and ziyi had always been so thirsty for knowledge. and zhengting says jump. ziyi says how high. zhengting says like that, stay still, roll your hips. and ziyi does exactly as he's told. "that was so good, ziyi," zhengting grins over sore hips and trembling thighs, and ziyi is too spent to say anything back.

"yanjun, please." yanjun laughs, "no." and zhengting pouts ineffectively. "please." "no." "pleeeease." "zhengting, no." so, zhengting stops playing mr nice and does it himself. he meets yanjun by their usual spot, and locks the door behind them. and yanjun feels the shift in the air, too. zhengting doesn't give him a second to ask before he can realize what's going on. zhengting's fingers around him, squeezing a little too hard, stroking a little too fast. yanjun too distracted by everything to say anything, only feeling and hearing. and following. zhengting preps him through the week and he doesn't even notice. and he only really notices when they're already on zhengting's bed, clothes all discarded on the floor, the mattress almost too soft compared to their usual concrete wall. it's a long night, all slick and sloppy and slow. all zhengting as patient as yanjun has ever seen him, all yanjun as patient has ever seen himself. all zhengting grinning when yanjun grips his shoulders, his arms, his skin. all nails burying too deep, all zhengting falling asleep as yanjun leaves. slight limp in his step.

zhengting barely has to say anything to get ruibin to agree, which is great but boring and maybe, zhengting thinks, maybe that's why they'll never work. it passes without a second of excitement besides the usual electrified nerve-endings, all too physical--even for him. "ruibin," he says, clothes all pulled on and tying his shoes. "maybe..." a moment of silence, of zhengting collecting his things, pulling on a cap. "maybe we should stop seeing each other." "oh." zhengting pockets his keys and ruibin looks a him, confused. "where are you going?" "i'm leaving." "but this is your apartment."

zhengting leaves, anyway. all running from his problems and responsibilities, pretending nothing is awful. he pulls his phone out and hovers over names for a second, a minute, a moment.

"hey."

"hey."

"'wanna go get some ice cream? i'm buying."

"sure, 'ting."


	2. you love that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why do you think of me? i don't even think of myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE BITCH I BET U THOUGHT YOUD SEEN THE LAST OF ME LMAO [heres a bop u can listen to while reading uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A36ySki5j2A&feature=youtu.be)

wenjun's classes run from seven-to-nine, but it's fine. because zhengting likes late nights. likes cute, intelligent boys. likes making xukun jealous and impatient and upset.

> **6 new messages**  
>  **cai xukun**
> 
> (09:02 AM) wyd  
>  (11:12 AM) u good?  
>  (01:30 PM) hey zhengting, didn't see you around today. my last class ends at 4 hmu if u wanna hang out  
>  (02:31 PM) hey, wanna go out tonight ?  
>  (03:02 PM) dinner? my treat :)  
>  (06:22 PM) i'll be around till 8 text me, if ever.

the punctuation at the end makes his fingers tingle, almost makes him hit _send_ on a message that reads: sure! be there in 5! but zhengting turns his phone off, and instead, he waits alone under one of the pavilions near wenjun's building for three hours.

"hey," comes the softest voice. zhengting turns around to see wenjun, all glimmering white-med-student uniform and too-large backpack. all tired but handsome, eyes the kind of pretty-weary that makes him want to tuck wenjun into bed and kiss his forehead good night. instead, zhengting gives him the brightest, sweetest smile. it's an infectious kind of happiness, the kind of adorable that makes wenjun forget all about the busy day and the busier night up ahead. zhengting hugs him, and he doesn't notice how heavily he exhales.

but zhengting notices. ever attentive, he notices. and he rubs wenjun's back, chuckling airily. "tired?" he asks. and he asks in a way that makes wenjun think he might actually be interested, might actually listen. he asks in a way that makes wenjun think it's okay to answer with another sigh, and,

"yeah. just..." he pauses, hesitating in the way he does when the conversation is anything about himself, "long day."

"tell me about it," zhengting says, carrying his heavy embryology book for him. and wenjun thinks about how no one ever really says that anymore: 'tell me about it.' he thinks about how no one ever really wants to hear about anyone else anymore, but zhengting is looking at him like he actually cares. so, wenjun fights the genetically-inherited instinct to bite his tongue, and he talks about his day as they walk alongside each other.

 

—-

 

"didn't see you last night."

"should've looked harder."

it's when zhengting says these kinds of things that xukun wants to ask—"what's the matter?" "did i do something wrong?" but everytime, he just ends up pulling zhengting's hair and choking him to an inch of his life. leaving angry red marks across his chest, thinking that maybe zhengting will look in the mirror and figure out the code, eventually. but, zhengting never looks hard enough, either. 

so, he stares at his glowing red chest in the mirror as he buttons up his shirt. lips pouted, nose scrunched. "stop doing that," he says, and the seriousness in his voice makes xukun look.

it's an awkward pause—that much can't be denied. so, xukun takes larger strides across the room. because maybe _that_ will extinguish the little fires starting around them. maybe this will make everything better, he thinks: arms around zhengting's waist, lips on zhengting's neck. "stop what?" he grins, and zhengting doesn't stop him but he doesn't look too happy either.

the clock stops—that much they both notice. most pretenses dropped, xukun wraps his arms tighter around zhengting. _warmer_ , more loving. he buries a kiss into zhengting's neck. " _sorry_ ," he whispers.

zhengting finds his arms placed atop xukun's, finds himself sighing, giving in. he looks down to stare at their fingers as he fits his in the spaces between xukun's.

"it's fine, baobei," zhengting says, voice quiet. turning his head to kiss xukun, head lolling to one side. eyes fluttering shut, xukun pressing open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder.

> **1 new message**  
>  **bi wenjun**
> 
> (08:42 PM) Hey, Zhengting. I'm out early today. If you want to have dinner, just tell me. My treat! I want to go back to that sushi place we went to last week. 
> 
> **4 new messages**  
>  **zhu zhengting**
> 
> (09:37 PM) hey, wenjun!!! i got caught up in essays, sorry :( :(  
>  (09:37 PM) i really wanna go back there too. when are you free again?   
>  (09:37 PM) my treat this time haha ~~  
>  (09:38 PM) are you mad at me? :(
> 
> **2 new messages**  
>  **bi wenjun**
> 
> (10:30) SLR. I just got home. Of course I'm not mad. Unless you want me to be?  
>  (10:31) Hahaha, just kidding. It's okay! I'm free this Saturday afternoon after 3. Maybe we can do something then?

xukun comes back to bed, wrapping arms around zhengting's waist, nuzzling into his neck. and zhengting forgets to hit send on 'i'd love to! i'll call you later.'

 

—-

 

three o'clock sucking yanchen's dick in the backseat of his car on a monday afternoon isn't exactly what zhengting would call a _mistake_. it's more of a... _lapse_ in judgment. an unintelligent guess. an uncalculated risk. he's not a terrible person, not really. it's just that xukun was otherwise engaged and things with wenjun were going slow, and yanchen just happened to drive by in his brand new Maz and zhengting's favorite black muscle shirt and there was really nothing stopping him from sucking yanchen's dick.

zhengting grabs a tissue from the box on the dashboard to wipe his lips. and he rolls his eyes when he hears yanchen chuckling as he pulls up his gray sweats.

"i can't believe they let you in the building wearing that," zhengting says, tugging his shirt on straight and trying to avoid eye contact. "you're  practically naked."

"you love it."

"didn't spring a boner in professor zhang's class?" zhengting scoffs, "shocking."

"why are you so mad at me?" yanchen coos in the way he knows zhengting likes, tugging on his hand because he knows zhengting hates it when people grab his wrist.

zhengting swallows thickly and looks at the ground so he can be brave enough to say, "because you fucked xukun while we were together probably, ha ha," and he didn't mean to sound so hurt saying it. but he sounds so hurt saying it that he regrets saying it as soon as he does.

"come on, zhengting. you were going around with like... _five_ guys when—"

"we weren't together then," zhengting snaps, voice still quiet. and he didn't mean to sound so hurt saying it, but he sounds like he's about to cry.

"... how many times to do i have to say i'm sorry?"

and yanchen's voice is so soft that he almost forgets everything and forgives everything, but zhengting bites his lip. pulls his jacket on and turns around to leave. yanchen closes the door as soon as it opens.

"i'll drive you to your next class," he says. and zhengting expects a stolen kiss, or something just as typical. but yanchen exits without saying a word, and it's when yanchen does these kinds of things that zhengting wants to come running back.

but he puts his bag on his lap and looks out the window, and lets yanchen kiss him one last time before he leaves—if only because they don't know how to say goodbye any other way.

("where were you?" xukun asks as zhengting slips into the seat beside him, fifteen minutes late for class.

"i was with yanchen," zhengting says. and he falls in love with the way xukun pushes him against his bedroom door.)  
  


—-

 

it's romantic. a movie after a dinner date, and "are you cold?" wenjun puts his jacket over zhengting's shoulders, eyes glittering in the lowlight. excited about the prospect of having free time, of actually having someone to spend his free time with. zhengting almost feels bad, but just as he's about to say he's sorry and explain himself and leave wenjun alone forever,

wenjun kisses him.

"sorry, i—"

"no, it's fine."

it's not like wenjun didn't ask, it's not like he did. it's not like zhengting didn't want it to happen, it's not like he should want it to.

but he forgets how to think straight, how to see straight. cheeks bunched up into a smile, thanking wenjun's taste for obscure films that no one watches in their final weeks, he takes wenjun's face in one hand and kisses him again.  unable to help the smile that sneaks in between their lips, little laughter and soft giggles. and his hand is on wenjun's shoulder, his cheek cupped in wenjun's hand. he presses a kiss to wenjun's cheek, holds his hand through the rest of the show. head rested on wenjun's shoulder, zhengting doesn't even remember what the film was about when they leave.

wenjun dusts the cheese powder off of zhengting's shirt as they walk to the parking lot, hands still interlocked. and zhengting thinks about the possibility of never letting go.

"but i don't want to let go of your hand," he teases, chuckling when they're supposed to separate. wenjun laughs quietly in the way he does; a charming little smile, eyes softening into something like fondness, endearment. 

"should we just walk home like this then?" he jokes, and zhengting laughs until they kiss again.

wenjun drives him home, and zhengting falls asleep—dreaming about the possibility of forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta who !! we dont know her !! this probably has more typos than i can count hhaha I HOPE U HAD FUN READING IT THO BEC I HAD FUN WRITING IT !

**Author's Note:**

> thats it thats the fic


End file.
